


Seeking, Sleeping, Solace

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Asthma attack, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Nightmares, Not What It Looks Like, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Sickfic, Sleeping Together, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:18:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6120679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky fell asleep before Steve could even think to go back on his no questions policy, and he ended up half sprawled across the bed, bionic arm thrown across Steve's chest.</p><hr/><p>
  <b>OR: Five Times Steve and Bucky Slept Together, and One Time That They Did and Got Caught</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeking, Sleeping, Solace

**Author's Note:**

> Look, another 5 + 1 of sleeping together! What a surprise! LOL
> 
> I do not own _Captain America_. Thanks for reading!

**1.**

His teeth were chattering.

Steve did not like the cold. He had never liked the cold, he liked it less now, hunkered down beneath thin blankets on the cot in the tent erected for their camp. They had been through hell and high-water, and still the cold crawled into his body, seeping into his skin and settling deeply into his chest.

He ducked his head to cough into the blankets.

The tent flap burst open, a blast of icy air rolling in. Steve shuddered into the blankets, and recognized the voice that spat curses into the air.

"Colder than _hell_ ," Bucky hissed, and if his voice trembled a little in the tent, it had to be cold out there. "You in there, Steve?"

Steve coughed a little more, and cleared his throat. "Yeah."

There was a pause, where the wind whipped outside the tent, and then Bucky leaned over on Steve's cot. It squeaked unpleasantly, and Bucky spoke over it. "You okay?"

"Mhmm."

"You sure? Don't lie to me, punk." Bucky nudged his shoulder.

Steve shifted the blanket enough so that he could peer out over them. "Just cold, Buck."

Bucky huffed, and his breath turned to a cloud in the air. "Is is that cold in here, too? I thought it's just because I've been in and out." He tugged at his collar, and then nudged at Steve's shoulder again. "Move over."

Steve's mind was working slowly. "What?" It must have been the cold.

"Move over, we can share." Bucky was pulling his shoes off. "It'll be warmer that way."

Bucky was leaning against the cot as he tried to get the other shoe off, and Steve shifted over instinctively so that his friend didn't fall over. "There's not enough room."

"Yeah, there is." Bucky lifted the blankets quickly slid under them.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry. Turn over."

"Hey- you're _freezing_!"

"I just got in." Bucky wrapped his strong arms around Steve's chest, pulling him flush against his body. "Just give it a minute, okay? This cold isn't good for you. If you start coughing, or get chilled and get sick-"

"I'm not gonna get sick, Buck," Steve muttered, but the press of Bucky's body along his spine was infinitesimally warmer, legs tangling with his and holding him so tightly (but not so tightly he couldn't breathe). "'s just the cold," he continued, more like mumbled, as he relaxed back into Bucky's warmth behind him.

"Yeah, kid, keep telling yourself that. Now go to sleep," Bucky said. "I'm tired and I want to get some shut-eye."

"You were the one who was bothering me," Steve muttered halfheartedly, but he yawned, more content as he tugged at the blankets. He could talk without stuttering if he focused, but maybe with the additional warmth, he'd stop shaking long enough to be able to drop off.

 

He did.

**2.**

The air was still wheezing in and out of Steve's lungs as he slumped back against the pillows, trying to shake the sick, weak feeling clinging all over his body. He rubbed tiny circles into his chest. Even knowing that the worst had passed, he couldn't shake the feeling smothering him. The window. He wanted some air. That would help... or at least, feel better than this sticky feeling.

He'd managed to drag the pillows up so that he was half sitting against them, but as he tried to fight the blankets tangled around his legs away, he didn't know where he had mustered the strength. Finally, with a few, short bursts of coughing tearing from his throat, he managed to get his bare feet on the cool ground.

He just needed some air. He was fine, he was breathing better now, but it was just that _sensation_...

Steve took another step towards the window. That was when his legs wobbled and he crashed down before he could hope to grab anything to keep himself upright. Only pure luck had it so that he could get his arms out to break the fall, although they collapsed the moment he put too much weight on them. He ducked his head into his arm to stifle the coughing- breathe, Steve, breathe, you're fine, you're-

The door burst open, which startled Steve into another round of coughing and wheezing. "Steve!" Bucky dropped down next to him so fast that his knees cracked against the floor, a hand coming to rest in the center of Steve's back. "Just breathe, you're going to be fine. Go fetch the medic, _now_!" he barked, to someone Steve couldn't see.

He tried to dissuade him, anyway. "I don't... need the..."

"This is why you need to have the nebulizer all the _time_ ," Bucky said, rubbing at Steve's back.

"The worst is... _over_ ," Steve said firmly. He didn't want a medic, not now.

Bucky sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll keep an eye on him and see if I think it's necessary. Fetch me a hot water bottle in the meantime."

"Right away, James."

Steve sighed wearily, sucking in another deep breath.

"Let's get you into bed," Bucky said.

"I was in bed," Steve mumbled, although he staggered to his feet with Bucky's help. "I wanted air... the window," he muttered.

"Oh. I'll open it in a minute, you're drenched in sweat, you don't need to be in front of the cold. Sit down, yeah, good. Are you good?" Bucky leaned over him, hand on his shoulder, concern etched into his features. He may have not been panicking outwardly _too_ much, but his eyes were begging him to say he was alright.

"I'm fine, Buck," Steve said quietly. "Really."

Bucky breathed out slowly, running his fingers through his hair. "Well, shit," he muttered. "Let me get some air moving in here a little, you lean forward," he reminded, turning for the window.

"Yes, _Barnes_." Steve managed to tease a little, even as he braced his arms against his knees. He'd lean back against the pillows, in a minute. This worked, too.

Some time later, when Steve could breathe properly and he only felt vaguely sick, Bucky came to crawl onto the bed.

"What are you doing?" Steve murmured. He felt like falling asleep, and was half terrified to. Some nights were worse than others, with the breathing. Tonight didn't seem to be one of the good ones.

Bucky leaned back against the headboard, stretched his legs out, and patted his hand against his chest. "Come on, Rogers."

"What?"

"Being at an incline helps you breathe, right? Come sleep, right here."

Steve stared at him for a moment. He was too tired to argue. He did so, anyway, as he crawled up to settle himself against Bucky's chest. "How're you gonna sleep like that?"

"I've slept with worse." Bucky wedged the warm water bottle in between his chest and Steve's back. "You still want this?"

"While it's warm," Steve said, yawning, "yeah." He slumped his head against Bucky's chest, grabbing the blankets from him when he pulled them up. "I'll be fine, Buck... promise."

"You'd better be," Bucky said, snaking his arm around his shoulders. "I'm not gonna let you out that easy."

"Good to know you've always got my back," Steve remarked.

"'til the end of the line, Steve." Bucky punched his shoulder gently. "Not going to change."

"Same here, Buck... same here."

**3.**

Steve wasn't prone to swearing, but he did just then, hearing that noise coming from Bucky's lips from down the hall.

The ‘Winter Soldier’ part of Bucky's mind seemed to rear up at the worst of times - namely, in these nightmares.

"Bucky, Bucky- hey, hey, Buck!" Steve exclaimed, throwing the door open. "You're fine, Buck, wake up!" He clicked the light on and crossed the room. " _Bucky_!"

He knew better than to touch him. Bucky was always the most volatile when he was coming from these nightmares, when he was remembering things that would be best left untouched.

So, Steve didn't touch him, no matter how much he wanted to shake him awake to stop his friend making those _noises_. Bucky didn't whimper. Bucky wasn't supposed to whimper. Bucky was always the strong one, so much stronger than him-

Bucky startled awake with a choking gasp, hands flying to grab at things Steve could not see.

"Buck," Steve said softly, leaning forward. "It's just a nightmare. You're okay."

He watched the fight drain out of Bucky's posture, the wild look melt from his gaze. And then he slumped forward, shoving his hands back through his long, dark hair, and blew out a breath that Steve was certain _wasn't_ supposed to shake.

He'd been there before, himself.

Now he dared to touch him, reaching out his hand to press his fingers against Bucky's shoulder. "You're okay," he said softly. "You're awake."

"Yeah," Bucky rasped, and cleared his throat. Tried again. "I'm fine. Sorry I woke you up. Again," he tacked on lowly, mostly under his breath.

The nightmares did happen a lot. More than Steve wished they would.

He would not let on how much Bucky having these nightmares made _him_ hurt. Steve, in all of his patriotic, super-human glory, couldn't take that away. After everything Bucky had done for him - the latest of which was actually still being _alive_ \- Steve still felt helpless.

He hated it, and he would not let on.

He'd do what he could, though. "Come back to my room. You can sleep with me." He had been entertaining the idea for some time, remembering the times Bucky had crawled into bed with him, but they hadn't been on the best of terms after Bucky had moved in following Steve's tracking him down.

Bucky's head slipped from his hand, and he jerked his chin up before he could pitch over. "What?"

Steve thumbed to the door. "My bed's bigger, you can come back. I don't mind. It should help with the... you know..."

Bucky looked up at him, then turned his head away, nostrils flaring. "I'm not going to come sleep with you."

"Fine, I'll sleep with you, then." Steve moved forward as if to crawl into the bed, and Bucky jolted into action, halfway out of the bed himself.

"You can't sleep here, we can't both fit," Bucky retorted.

"We could try?" Steve smiled, trying to put more joking into it than he felt up to.

"There's no way in hell." Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his forehead. "... ugh."

"Come on." Steve hesitated for a moment, then went ahead to point out the obvious. "You're shaking, Buck. No questions asked, I promise." He held up his hands.

Bucky blew out a breath, and straightened up. "I'm _fine_ , Steve."

"You're allowed to _not_ be fine, too."

And Bucky deflated again, and turned his gaze away so he wasn't looking at Steve. "... Okay."

"Okay." Steve held out his hand.

Bucky hesitated and took it, allowing him to help him to his feet.

 

It was a little more awkward than before, Steve thought. It had been a long time. Things had changed. He had changed, Bucky had changed.

The awkwardness didn't last, though.

Bucky fell asleep before Steve could even think to go back on his no questions policy, and he ended up half sprawled across the bed, bionic arm thrown across Steve's chest.

Bucky looked a lot more peaceful when he was sleeping.

Steve sighed, smiled tiredly, and closed his eyes. Might as well catch some shut eye, too.

**4.**

"What _happened_?"

Steve waved his hand, gagging over the basin Bucky had shoved into his hands.

Some sort of radioactive poison, or something like that. He hadn't known what he was walking into in that storehouse. Something that wasn't agreeing with the serum in his blood.

"... _Steve_ ," Bucky growled, and pushed away from the bed. "Stay there."

He wasn't going to be going anywhere. He'd been trying to go to sleep, actually, having finally stripped down to his boxers from the suit, but the punch to the gut had been sudden and quick, and he'd been throwing up into the trash can before Bucky had come investigating, handing him the basin he was hanging onto now.

"Ugh." He scrubbed his hand against the back of his mouth, scowling. He didn't get sick much anymore, and when he did, it wasn't any sort of strain of common illness that made him sick. Usually things like this.

He set the basin onto the nightstand and thumped back into the pillows. Oh, he wanted to sleep. If his body would cooperate... the place was spinning.

"Finished?" Bucky strode back in, leaning over to swipe at Steve's mouth with a cold wash cloth.

"Ugh, Buck." He swatted at him halfheartedly. "Stop."

"You're a mess," Bucky said, a little less sternly than he might have in the past, but he continued to wipe down Steve's face nonetheless.

"I'm _tired_ , jerk." He didn't miss Bucky's half smile before his eyes slipped closed again. The ministrations were nice, Steve had to admit, and the cold seemed to be helping the throbbing, aching pain beneath his head.

"Get some sleep," Bucky ordered.

Steve folded his arms beneath his head, opening his eyes again. "You gonna hover over me, mother hen?"

"I could let you suffer," Bucky replied, smoothing the washcloth onto Steve's head.

"I'll take the comfort," Steve said, letting his eyes close again. "Thanks, Buck."

"Yeah, yeah. Someone has to keep an eye on you... Captain America... reckless." Whatever Bucky was saying was breaking up as unconscious washed over Steve.

 

When he woke up, Bucky was curled up horizontally against the foot of the bed, hair thrown back into a ponytail, fast asleep. There was a bowl of water on the nightstand, and the abandoned wash cloth from before.

Steve felt better, albeit a little drained.

Since Bucky was sleeping across his feet, Steve didn't bother trying to move. He just turned his head and went back to sleep.

**5.**

Steve cringed when the thunder rattled the glass in the window. If it were only Thor, he could handle this much better. But the thunderstorms had always gotten under his skin, and it didn't seem to want to change. Ever since he had come back, thunder wasn't thunder; thunder was M3s and grenades, and if Steve thought too hard on it, he could feel the overheated air whipping his hair and the dirt and dust on his skin.

It was one thing for him to be awake, but he didn't expect to see Bucky in the brightly-lit kitchen, nursing a glass of warm milk and yesterday's newspaper.

"Buck?"

Bucky didn't turn at his voice, but he did whip around a second later, fingers flying towards the butter knife abandoned on the counter.

"Just me," Steve said hastily, holding up his hands. "Sorry." Even after all this time, you didn't sneak up on Bucky, intentionally or accidentally.

Bucky relaxed, hands flying to his ears. "I didn't expect you to be up," he said, plucking small objects from his ears.

"Are those earplugs?" Steve asked, going for the fridge.

"I don't like the thunder."

Steve paused with his fingers around the bottle. "... You, too?"

Bucky shrugged. "There's worse things." He sat back. "But they," with a jerk of his head to reference the thunderstorm, "dig things up. Sometimes."

Steve hummed, grabbing the loaf of bread that was already out to make toast. Bucky had evidently done the same thing, the toaster dragged to reach the plug-in and the butter still smeared on the knife. He could get around the kitchen now. Steve could still remember the first time Bucky had used the toaster, and the bread had burned. The look of sheer panic on Bucky's face over the smoking apparatus had sent Steve into a particularly undignified peal of laughter, even as he had moved in to help his friend.

Now the toast and, apparently, the crossword puzzle from the newspaper, Steve thought fondly, watching Bucky scratch letters into the small boxes.

Steve sank down across from him, and munched on his own toast and commented on crossword clues until the thunder shook his apartment again, and the kitchen was plunged into darkness.

Bucky's chair scraped against the floor roughly, something crashed to the floor, and Steve jolted to his feet in a flash of lightning so quickly, he almost smacked his knees against the underside of the table.

"Buck?"

"I dropped the mug. I'm fine. What happened?"

"The storm knocked the power out," Steve muttered. He blinked quickly. He'd left his phone in the bedroom, so no light source there. "Leave it alone, I'll clean it up later."

"What-"

Lightning lit the room again, and Steve reeled away from the sudden brightness near the window, crashing sidelong into Bucky.

"Shit-"

"Sorry!" Steve gripped at Bucky's arm. "We need to sit down, before we break anything else. Ourselves included."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Sofa?"

"Yeah."

Stumbling the short distance into the living room wasn't hard, guided by the lightning flashes that almost blinded even Steve. He sank onto the couch, side by side with Bucky, and they blew out twin breaths in the darkness. "There. Okay?"

"Yeah." Bucky shifted. "This sucks."

 _Agreed_ , Steve thought, but anything he might have said was drowned out by the thunder. Was it getting closer? Or another round? For the love of-

He made a discontented noise, and pressed into Bucky's side.

"If I can find the earplugs again, you can have them."

Steve tilted his head, and Bucky's hair tickled his nose. He retreated slightly. "Does that even block it out?"

A pause, and then "Not as well as they might".

"Ah." Steve shuffled to get comfortable. "I'll be fine, I just... reminds me of the guns, the bombs. I'm right back there. It's so _frustrating_."

"I know." Bucky was quiet for a moment. "... Or the lab," he added shortly.

Zola's lab. Steve's nostrils flared. He reached over, gripping at Bucky's shoulder. "We're fine. Yeah? We're fine." He didn't know who's benefit he was repeating it more for.

They both flinched at the next clap of thunder.

They both pretended that neither of them had.

And they both woke up in the morning, they both complained of stiff necks and aching backs, still both on the sofa, slumped against each other.

"Your sofa is shit, Steve," Bucky muttered, pushing his hair out of his face.

"Fine, we'll go out and buy a new one," Steve retorted sarcastically.

 

A week later, they did.

**\+ 1**

The warm weight of a body next to him was still one of the gentle pleasures that Steve had. If nothing else, he could have that. His arm was asleep beneath the bionic shoulder pressed into it, and the unkept tangle of brunette hair tickled his chin from where Bucky's head was pillowed on Steve's shoulder.

Steve stretched slightly, wiggling his fingers. He pressed them against Bucky's shoulder blade gently, trying to prod him out of sleep.

"Bucky," he said softly, stretching his legs. He pressed his bare toes against Bucky's warm feet. "Buck, get up."

It didn't even disturb him. Bucky slept like a _log_. Or maybe it was just with him that Bucky slept like a log around - anyone else, any other tiny movement, and Bucky would have been awake the second after it happened.

Steve scoffed. "Come on, Buck," he complained, although only halfheartedly. Bucky was warm and heavy and he had his fingers fisted in Steve's ratty shirt.

They'd had a rough day, yesterday. No injuries, not of that sort, it had just... been one of those days where things hadn't gone _well_. So, conscience heavy and mind sluggish, Steve hadn't said a word when Bucky followed him like a ghost to the Tower after the mission, in the same, quiet mood Steve was in. They ended up back in his room, sitting on either end of the bed like teenagers, sharing a beer between them. They'd talked about random things, carefully chosen memories that Steve knew had come back to Bucky over the years, or stories that Bucky eked out in between swigs off the bottle.

It was almost like before. Before all of this. But Bucky wasn't quite the same as he had been before, and heck, neither was Steve. So, it was similar, and different, too, but one thing had yet to change: their evident proclivity towards falling asleep together.

Steve blew out a breath that was a soft chuckle in the glow the dawning sunshine cast around the room. Wouldn't be the first time they fell asleep like this, wouldn't be the last. Especially when, even after his initial instability to physical contact after returning, Bucky seemed to unintentionally (or intentionally) seek out that contact now.

"Buck," Steve repeated, a little louder, because as warm and comfortable as he was, the booze he'd drunk last night had to go somewhere and, besides, he'd fallen asleep without brushing his teeth. His mouth tasted horrible. "Wake up." The shove at his shoulder was less gentle this time, and Bucky gave a gruff _"mm?"_ under his breath.

"Oh, you're finally coming around. I have to-"

"Wake up, sunshine, Bruce wanted..." Natasha's voice was suddenly _there_ , and as the door slid open (and then Bucky was quite awake, Steve felt the tension roll into the body next to him), and she only stood there for a moment, then quirked an eyebrow. "Is this the reason you never call any of those girls I try to set you up with?"

Steve rolled his eyes, dropping his head back to the pillow. "Not what it looks like, Tash."

"Yeah, I'm sure it's not." She grinned. "Do you two switch off? Who's the little spoon?"

"Natasha."

"Must be you," Natasha fired back with a laugh. "Well, Bruce said he wanted to go over some... whatever he's looking into now, in the lab. I thought you'd gone out already, you're late for your run." Her eyes flicked to Bucky who, _despite_ being awake, still had not moved. "Domesticity is making you lazy, Steve."

"Domesticity's good now and then," Steve said, "and I'm getting up. Now." Bucky didn't take the hint. Steve rolled his eyes and looked back at Natasha. "Tell Bruce I'll check in. Thanks for the wake-up call."

"Yeah, sure." She couldn't seem to stop grinning at him in that way that Steve knew bode nothing well for him. "I'll catch you later."

Bucky rolled over the moment Natasha had gone, yawning. He flung his arms out across the pillow and blinked a few times, while Steve just tried to get the circulation pumping in his arm again.

"Yeah, good morning, sunshine," he said sarcastically.

"Morning," Bucky replied, either missing the sarcasm or ignoring it entirely as he stretched.

"We fell asleep again," Steve pointed out, flexing his fingers.

Bucky grunted, unperturbed. He rolled over to get to his feet. "Are you still going out?"

"Running? Yeah, probably. After I see what Bruce wanted." He kicked the blankets from his feet and stood up, running his fingers through his hair. "You coming?"

"Yeah. Maybe." Bucky toyed with the ends of his own hair. "I'm going to change."

"Right. I'll find you when Bruce is done with me?"

Bucky nodded blearily. His eyes were still half lidded with sleep. Steve might have wanted to cross the room and ruffle his hair if he didn't think he'd get a punch for it. He just grinned instead, and watched Bucky trudge out of his room.

Again.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I feel the same about Steve and Buck that I do about John and Sherlock - platonic life partners/soulmates. Like John and Sherlock, I still like to make them cuddle. (As said above: What a surprise! xD)
> 
> Also, I've only seen Winter Soldier. (I have to watch First Avenger later this week...) I don't know much about the comics, so if anything doesn't match up, please ignore it. Buck's characterization is a little tough just from Winter Soldier, since he doesn't, you know. Talk much. ^^'
> 
> Thank you!


End file.
